Just Fine
by KJaneway115
Summary: Kathryn is dissatisfied with her life after Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant.  Will an impromptu visit from Chakotay give her the clarity she's looking for?


**A/N: I don't own _Voyager_ or its characters. The song lyrics belong to Oscar Hammerstein, II. Please read and review!  
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**JUST FINE**

_Ten minutes ago, I saw you_

_I looked up when you came through the door_

_My head started reeling_

_You gave me the feeling_

_The room had no ceiling or floor_

Kathryn Janeway placed her head in her hands and sighed in defeat. She could face the Borg, the Hirogen, Species 8472; she could devise a solution to any technical problem, outwit any wily alien trader and conquer any spatial anomaly. What she couldn't combat was monotony. All her life, she had dreamed of being a Starfleet admiral, but as with so many things in life, the reality of the admiralty was much different from her childhood dreams. Sometimes, she longed for the bridge of a starship, for the constant adventure and uncertainty. She longed for the companionship of a crew that was hers and hers alone. Even though she had put up barriers between herself and her crew on _Voyager_, they had shared an unspoken camaraderie. B'Elanna, Tom and Harry had learned to read her moods from a mile away. Tuvok's logical counsel had kept her sane for seven years. Chakotay often knew what she was thinking or feeling before she could articulate it herself. She longed for the people who _knew _her - not acquaintances or friends, but _family_ - the family that had been bred by seven years of shared experiences and close quarters. But Tuvok and Seven were far away on Vulcan and Chakotay had taken her place as Captain of _Voyager_, taking Tom, B'Elanna and little Miral with him. Harry had received a promotion and was serving on the galaxy class _Venture_. She brimmed with pride for all of them, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy when she thought of them out there exploring without her.

Sometimes, she felt resigned to her lot, and this afternoon was one of those times. She could feel herself on the edge of depression, its oppressive blanket just outside her field of vision, ready to descend upon her at any moment. Most days, she could hold it back, keep it just out of reach - most days, but not all. She wouldn't take to her bed or lock herself in her quarters; she held the feelings at bay most of the time, and when she couldn't she forced herself to go through the motions of life anyway. But that was all it was to her - going through the motions, doing things as if by wrote, checking off the days as they went by as if they were simply items on a list to be endured out of necessity. She played velocity religiously four or five times a week with several different partners, all of whose company she enjoyed, but none of whom were close friends. The activity helped keep the depression at bay.

Her work was dissatisfying. She had thought that being an admiral would give her a greater opportunity to have a positive impact on people's lives and on Federation policy. Instead, she sat at a desk and read reports, attended meetings and offered what opinions she could on bureaucratic nonsense. The worst part was that she saw no way out of it short of resigning completely. And although she was frustrated, she wasn't ready to give up her career; she knew that would leave her more miserable than she already was.

She tried not to admit to herself how unhappy she was. When her mother asked her how her week was, when her friends asked her how she was doing, she told them she was fine. And it wasn't a lie. She had the job she'd always wanted. She had a beautiful townhouse in the heart of San Francisco. She never lacked for social events at Starfleet Headquarters (although, more often than not she found socializing at Starfleet boring). She visited her mother frequently and spoke to Phoebe and her family via subspace almost every weekend. She truly was "fine."

She felt as though she was waiting for something to happen - for a war to break out, for a planetary disaster, for a diplomatic crisis. She was waiting for Starfleet to bang on her door in desperate need of her talents, for the day when she could leap into action, for the day when the reason for her seven year exile became clear, for the day a situation arose that only she could handle. What she could barely admit to herself was that her worst fear was that that day would never come, that there would be no crisis. No one would ever come knocking on her door asking her to save the world; that was just a childhood fantasy. Eventually, the notoriety that went with being _Voyager_'s captain would fade and she would do nothing more than sit in her office, day after day, reading reports, just like every other forgettable, mediocre admiral in the history of Starfleet.

It occurred to her that perhaps she'd already had all the excitement she was going to get, which was more than most people, she knew, and that she was doomed to live out the rest of her days in solitary boredom. Maybe the opportunities for the ups and downs were past, and this even keel would be her life from now on. She knew that she should welcome the predictability, and some days she did, but others, she feared that she would live the rest of her life feeling that everything was just "fine," but that nothing better was possible. She felt numb, and sometimes she wondered dispassionately if that meant that nothing was really fine at all. But it didn't matter. She had to go on making herself believe that everything was fine, or she would descend into the depths of a depression from which she was not sure anyone would be able to save her - not her mother, not Phoebe, not Chakotay.

Chakotay. She missed him terribly. His absence was another aspect of her life on which she refused to dwell. She hadn't realized how much she'd relied on his friendship, guidance and strength and how much she'd enjoyed the simple fact of having him by her side until he was gone. Only a few months after _Voyager_'s return, he'd been promoted to Captain, and, after her promotion, had been given command of the refitted _Voyager_. When he'd left the year before on a deep space mission, taking much of their former crew with him, she'd wished them all well but hidden her true emotions. At the relaunch ceremony, she had felt obligated to play the part of the stoic admiral. She had realized later that Chakotay had spent the entire evening trying to get her alone, but by the time she had realized this, he was long gone and it was too late.

It was probably better this way, she thought. What if they had had time to speak alone? What would he have said? He would hardly have been about to confess his undying love... right? Kathryn shook her head. These were questions better left unasked and unanswered. She had decided long ago that she was far better off alone. The relationships in which she felt passionately connected had a tendency to consume her, and that was dangerous. The risk of being hurt or abandoned was too great; she had been there before and had no desire to go through it again. She knew she would never be able to sustain the alternative type of relationship, one with someone for whom she had only marginal feelings. In her heart, she knew she could never accept just "fine." So she told herself that being alone was better than just fine and when she thought too often of her former first officer, she forced her mind to other subjects, never allowing herself to become immersed in a desire that she knew would turn out to be nothing more than a fantasy. She knew, deep in her heart, that she was lonely, but as with her career, she saw no options. She wasn't willing to put herself on the line again; every relationship to which she had committed wholeheartedly had failed miserably.

So she tried to focus on the good things in her life, and she filled her time with games of velocity and time in Master DaVinci's workshop on the holodeck. And she waited. She waited for something to change, for a course correction to become obvious and necessary. She waited for something or someone that she couldn't deny, that awakened a passion so strong in her that she would be unable to pull away, no matter what misgivings she had. She waited for the flash of lighting that suddenly illuminated her path, for the step that she would _know_ was right. She waited for passion, clarity, inspiration. Sometimes, she didn't know what she was waiting for. She was just... waiting.

At the end of the day, tired of being inside, she decided to walk home. It was almost the end of summer in San Francisco, but the weather was still warm. Normally, she remained in the office well past 1900 on a Friday, but she wasn't getting any work done this afternoon, so even though it was only 1700, Kathryn sent her aide home and locked her office for the weekend, exiting the building with a cursory wave to the other officers on her way out.

The sun was still high in the sky and Kathryn paused for a moment, closing her eyes and relishing the warmth of its rays on her face. She enjoyed the bustle of the city around her - the clanking of dishes as restaurants prepared their verandas for the evening crowd, the idle chatter of shoppers, the hum of the hovercars that formed the city's public transit system. She decided to stop at the Night Owl for a coffee on her way home, a habit that had been easy to develop since its location put it right between her home and her office. By the time she arrived there, she had removed her jacket; it was too warm to wear it.

Antonio, the proprietor, greeted her as she stepped in the door. "Admiral! You're early."

She smiled as the elderly man wiped the sweat off his brow and brushed his grey curls off his forehead. "There was nothing pressing in the office tonight. I wanted to enjoy the nice weather while I can."

"Smart," Antonio replied with a wink, laying one finger aside of his nose. "Hot or iced today, my dear?"

"Iced, please." She watched as the jolly, pot-bellied Italian man expertly made her coffee.

"Doing anything special this weekend, Admiral?" he asked as he scooped ice into her cup.

"Nothing exciting, I'm afraid. I'll visit my mother on Sunday, velocity tomorrow. The usual."

"That sounds good," said Antonio as he handed her the coffee. "This one's on the house."

"Antonio, no," Janeway protested.

He held up his hands and his green eyes twinkled. "Please. I insist. Don't tell me I can't give a beautiful lady her coffee on the house in my own shop."

Kathryn relented and left a generous tip as she wished Antonio a good weekend and continued her walk. The cold coffee was refreshing, and she savored the bitter, nutty taste. When she arrived home, she changed out of her uniform into more comfortable, loose fitting cotton pants and a long, white tunic. Barefoot, she went out to the back patio, setting her coffee on a small table and asking the computer to play Rachmaninoff's second symphony. She took a moment to examine her garden; her plants were doing very well this year, especially the Talaxian tomatoes. She sipped her coffee and allowed the strains of the music to wash over her. Relaxing into the chair's soft cushions, she threw her head back in ecstasy as the music rose and fell around her. In its ebb and flow, she allowed herself to fully experience the insatiable longing that had smoldered within her for as long as she could remember. It was a longing for the world she had looked for as a child, the possibilities she had seen when she stood on the front porch of her Indiana home looking up at the stars - a longing for a world where she would constantly be challenged by those around her, where mediocrity could not flourish, where evil was never allowed to reign. This was the world she had expected to find.

Instead, she had found herself in the Delta Quadrant, surrounded by hostility. The Kazon, the Hirogen, the Vaadwuar... a far cry from the cooperative, benevolent world of the Federation. These were not races who inspired her to become better, but, instead, those that threatened the very existence of the principles she had always held dear. No, the Delta Quadrant had not been the world she had imagined when she had gazed at the stars as a child. She had done everything she could to make it a better place, but sometimes she wondered if her one, small ship had had any impact at all, or if, instead, they had done more harm than good. On top of that, since her return to the Alpha Quadrant, she had discovered that Starfleet was no longer the organization she had remembered. The Dominion War had drastically changed the culture of the Federation, and she often felt antiquated, like an artifact that remained a curiosity, but which no longer truly belonged.

Once in a while, on nights like tonight, she allowed her mind to take her to a world she could only imagine. The triumphant music rose, and she allowed herself to be transported to another place, to an endless sky, to a mountain peak overlooking a sunlit valley where an eagle soared past her, greeting her with a screech as she smiled. A gentle breeze blew her hair off her face and strong arms encircled her from behind, shielding her body from the cold. Yes, Chakotay was always here in this place. On those few occasions she allowed her imagination to bring her here, she always found him waiting for her. In this place, she was never alone.

On this particular evening, she felt his presence more keenly than most. As the sun warmed her face, she leaned back into his chest, inhaling the scent of the fresh mountain air. She thought she could almost smell his musky scent, and the sensation of his fingers brushing over her cheek sent shivers down her spine. She sighed with contentment, a smile playing over her lips as he continued to caress her...

"Kathryn?" The voice was soft and so gentle that at first she believed she was dreaming.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she realized that she was not asleep and that the fingers on her cheek were not part of her fantasy. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and as the symphony escalated to a crescendo, she found herself looking into the deep brown eyes she had seen so often in her fantasies. For a moment, she thought that perhaps it had been the horrors of the world around her that had been the dream, while this... this had always been real. Then she realized that she was sitting on her patio, that she was Admiral Kathryn Janeway, and that he was Captain of a starship that was supposed to be lightyears away. "Chakotay!" she exclaimed, snapping herself out of her reverie.

"Hi." He looked wonderful - relaxed, happy, fit. He wore grey slacks and a loose, cream colored cotton shirt.

"I thought you were supposed to be somewhere in the vicinity of Deep Space Seven."

He shrugged. "I was." His expression became sheepish. "_Voyager_'s docked at Utopia Planetia for repairs."

Janeway stood, arms crossed. "What did you do to my ship?"

"It wasn't my fault," he replied defensively, "and anyway, last time I checked, _Voyager_ is _my_ ship now." His expression was serious but his eyes twinkled with humor.

Oh, how Kathryn had missed that twinkle in his eyes, his smile, those dimples. She found herself staring unabashedly at him and noticed that he didn't seemed to mind. Then it dawned on her that she was on the back patio, an area that should have been secure, yet he had walked in while she was sleeping. Placing her hands on her hips, she asked, "How did you get in here?"

His eyes sparkled even more. "I used to be Maquis, remember? A renegade, a criminal... I haven't forgotten all my tricks."

Janeway pursed her lips. "Hm," she said disapprovingly. "And here all this time I thought you'd gone respectable."

Chakotay chuckled, unable to keep the grin off his face. "Respectable? Hardly." As she continued to gaze into his eyes, Chakotay made no attempt to hide his affection. He had spent the first several years of their relationship learning to suppress the strong feelings he had for Kathryn Janeway - the attraction that had sizzled between them from the moment he had materialized on her bridge, the protectiveness he felt towards her, the deep affection and loyalty that seemed to run through every bone in his body. He had gotten so good at downplaying his emotions that it had become a habit, and at a certain point, his true feelings had receded so far back in his mind that he could almost make himself believe that they didn't exist anymore. His brief tryst with Seven of Nine had been a result of this repression. The previous year, he had been relieved when _Voyager_ had been assigned to a deep space mission, thinking that a year long separation would be just what he needed to get over Kathryn Janeway for good. Why he had come to her home today he didn't even know. He had been walking through the streets of San Francisco with no intended destination, and then he had found himself on Kathryn's doorstep. Sitting in the wicker chair, her head thrown back in ecstasy, she had looked more beautiful than Chakotay had ever seen her, and he suddenly didn't want to get over her. He felt that there was no reason to hide his feelings and forgot what reason there had ever been. Now she was looking up at him with the most complete sense of trust he had ever seen in her eyes, and he stepped forward, grasping her arms with his hands.

Chakotay stood so close that Kathryn could feel the heat of his body. The touch of his hands on her arms was electric, and their eyes remained locked together. The penetrating intensity of his gaze became too much for her, and she averted her eyes, stepping out of his grasp. "I've been so rude," she said, her voice husky. "I haven't even invited you in." Her words brought Chakotay out of his reverie and he cleared his throat awkwardly, letting his hands drop to his sides. "Come on," she said with a grin. "I'll give you the grand tour." She led him in through the glass doors and instructed the computer to discontinue the music.

She had just bought the house when Chakotay had left for his deep space mission, and the last time he had seen it, it had been a mess of boxes and packing materials. A year later, it looked very different. The kitchen was decorated in blue and yellow in a far less contemporary style than Chakotay would have expected, knowing how much Kathryn fancied herself a child of the twenty-fourth century. But as he saw the rest of the house, the decor made sense to him. She had all the modern amenities a person could ask for, but they were camouflaged in classic, almost delicate surroundings. When he thought about it, it suited her perfectly, and he told her so as she showed him the second bedroom.

"Thank you, Chakotay. I did have a little design help from my mother." She gestured to a large painting that hung over the bed. "That's one of Phoebe's."

"Beautiful," he commented. It was an abstract work in blues and greens. "It reminds me of the ocean."

She gave him a funny look. "I've always thought that, too." Then she grabbed his hand. "Come on. Only one room left. I saved the best for last."

"Well, I've already seen the bathtub. I can't imagine what you'd think was better than that." She tugged at his hand and led him to another set of stairs leading to a third floor. She had grabbed his hand impulsively, but he savored the way his large fingers completely encased her small ones. He didn't realize that he had tightened his grip.

At the top of the stairs was a single room that had obviously once been an attic. Kathryn had converted it into a sitting room and furnished it with a couple armchairs and a large bookshelf. An old fashioned telescope sat in one corner, and a soft, patterned rug covered the wood floor. The room's most striking feature, however, was the ceiling - it had been constructed from a single pane of glass which sloped down at an angle, allowing a perfect view of San Francisco Bay and, at that moment, the sun dipping into the ocean, leaving behind it a trail of pink and purple clouds lined with gold. It was also the perfect place to sit back and look at the stars, and Chakotay understood immediately why this was Kathryn's favorite room in the house. Changing the hand with which he held hers, he stepped directly behind her, lacing his fingers through hers on both hands. "It's perfect," he whispered into her ear.

Kathryn felt a shiver run down her spine at the sensation of Chakotay's hot breath against her neck. She allowed herself to lean into him, keeping her fingers intertwined with his, and they watched the sunset in silence, hearing nothing but each other's breathing. The sun slowly fell into the water, and the clouds changed from pink to purple as their gold lining slowly disappeared. As the last ray vanished beyond the horizon, Kathryn and Chakotay breathed a sigh together. "Beautiful," he whispered, but she was no longer sure he was talking about the outside view.

Kathryn pulled away. "Have you eaten?"

Concealing his disappointment at her withdrawal, he took a deep breath to steady himself. "No," he replied, realizing that he actually was hungry. "Not since this morning on _Voyager_."

She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "Don't start picking up my bad habits now."

The playful glimmer returned to his eye. "Captain's prerogative." The room had grown dark as the sun had set, and he struggled to see the details of her face in the dusk.

Kathryn sought his hand in the dim light and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Let's go out," she suggested with an almost girlish enthusiasm.

He had so rarely seen Kathryn behave this lightheartedly in recent years that he couldn't help but smile and give in although he couldn't care less whether they went out or not. He would have been fine with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as long as he got to spend the evening with her. "All right," he indulged her. "Where would you like to go?"

She had a mischievous glint in her eye as she practically skipped down the stairs. "I know the perfect place." He laughed, enjoying seeing her so happy.

Moments later, they were walking arm in arm through the streets of San Francisco, and she was telling him all about Antonio's sister, Francesca, who owned a quaint Italian bistro in the heart of the Castro. Neither of them stopped to think how right it felt for her arm to be linked through his, or how easily their bodies pressed against one another as they walked down the crowded sidewalks. Neither one realized that people spotted them as they passed, not because of their _Voyager_ fame, but because they seemed to be walking on air, oblivious to everything but each other.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Chakotay watched as Kathryn hugged Francesca and whispered something in her ear. Francesca looked in his direction and giggled, then hurried away. A few minutes later, a waiter showed them to a secluded candlelit table and served them prosecco in delicate crystal flutes. "What's the occasion?" Chakotay asked.

"We're celebrating," Kathryn replied as she raised her glass to his.

"I can see that. Celebrating what?"

She had to think it over for a moment before responding, "How about our homecoming?"

He chuckled. "That was almost two years ago."

"I know. I had planned to have you over for dinner that night, to celebrate properly, but then..." She paused, not wanting to bring up the real reason she hadn't followed through on the invitation. "Well, then Starfleet took over our lives for a while. There just never seemed to be a good time."

Chakotay regarded her dubiously. "You mean to say that you decided to call off the dinner after the Admiral told you I was going to marry Seven."

Kathryn felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. He was right, of course. She met his eyes. "Well, we're here now," she said softly, raising her glass. He mirrored her and she said, "To home."

"To home," he echoed as their glasses clinked. Their eyes remained on each other for another moment before they sipped the sweet, effervescent liquid.

With the mention of Seven and their homecoming behind them, they fell into an easy banter. Kathryn wanted to know everything about Chakotay's life on _Voyager_ - how the crew was, how he was enjoying command, whether he and Tom were constantly at each other's throats, how little Miral was doing. Chakotay answered every question in detail, painting a vivid picture of his new life for her and often making her laugh in the process.

He, in turn, wanted to know every detail of her life in San Francisco, and she found herself pouring out her frustrations and fears to him. For once, she didn't feel that she was complaining or worry that she was burdening him with her problems. She felt completely free to be herself and say whatever was on her mind. Neither of them had laughed so much in a long time.

After sharing a rich piece of tiramisu, they realized that they had been occupying their table for several hours, and the restaurant was about to close. Despite Kathryn's protestations, Chakotay insisted on paying the bill. He slid her chair out for her and offered her his arm. "I'll walk you home."

"That's not necessary, Chakotay. I'm a big girl. You must be exhausted. I'm sure you want to get back to _Voyager._"

He slid his hand over hers protectively. "You can't blame an old man for wanting to spend a few more minutes with a beautiful woman, can you?"

Her cheeks flushed crimson, but she played along. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I can't refuse." They walked back to her house in silence, their bodies pressed against one another, his hand tightening over hers as they approached their destination. As they walked up to her doorway and he prepared to say goodnight, she asked, "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"

"That sounds good."

She opened the door and illuminated the kitchen. She could feel Chakotay's eyes on her and she felt herself flush under the heat of his gaze. The intensity of the moment was almost too much for her, and she avoided looking at him, busying herself with the coffee, bending down to take the beans out of a cabinet. As she stood and moved towards the coffee maker, she felt a strong hand around her wrist, gripping her firmly, and before she had a moment to think, Chakotay had rounded the kitchen island and yanked her toward him. He held her wrist, and the force of his tug brought her body into full contact with his. She looked up into his eyes, not shying away this time, and he studied her intently, searching for the answer to an unasked question.

Then, she felt the length of her body pressed against his, held only by the strength of his fingers around her wrist and the force of the magnetism that had brought them to this moment after almost nine years. She was powerless to escape as his lips descended on hers, gentle, yet insistent, and then they were kissing and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. There was only him, the softness of his lips, the way his hands pressed against her lower back and over the curve of her buttocks, pulling her roughly against him.

To her shock, it was Chakotay who broke the kiss and stepped back, moving his hands to lightly clasp her upper arms. They leaned into each other, foreheads touching, breathing hard. "Woah," he breathed. She moved her hands to grasp his elbows, leaning into him for support. "We should slow down," he said, bringing himself upright, further away from her. "We've waited so long for this... We should... We should talk this over." He caressed her cheek with his palm.

Kathryn looked up at him and her jaw dropped slightly as realization crashed over her like a cold wave. From the moment that they had met, _this_ had been here. It was more than a physical attraction - it was a pull between their souls, a connection that could be obfuscated, perhaps, or damaged, but never destroyed. She had always felt it but had never articulated it. He had tried on a few occasions, a long time ago, but she hadn't been ready to hear it then. Suddenly, the meaning of his words, of his friendship, of hundreds of moments that had passed between them over the years became crystal clear to her. The protocols, the excuses, the fears and the duties that had obscured her vision for so long melted away. _This_ was the clarity she had been waiting for. A moment earlier, her heart had been pounding in her chest with nervous excitement. Now, she felt strangely calm, and, for the first time in a long time, she knew peace. She reached up and removed Chakotay's palm from her cheek, clasping both his hands in hers. "No," she said softly. His face fell and she realized he thought she was going to reject him and ask him to pretend this moment had never happened, as she had done many times before. But before he could speak, she moved closer, releasing his hands to wrap one arm around his waist and snake the other behind his neck. Her lips were almost on his, and she could feel the pounding of his heart as she whispered, "I don't think we have anything to talk about."

It took Chakotay a moment to realize that he had not received the rejection he anticipated, that Kathryn's lips were pressed against his, that her tongue was demanding entrance into his mouth. It occurred to him that they should be discussing the ramifications of this, that perhaps this was a dream, that he should be checking to make sure she wasn't inhabited by an alien presence, but he found himself unable or unwilling to protest. Kathryn's tongue was exploring his mouth and she tasted of coffee and wine. Her body pressed against his and he felt himself respond to her. It felt... right. Finally, something felt exactly right, and as his doubts evaporated, so did his self control. He pulled her against him roughly, his kisses growing more ardent. He kissed and nibbled his way down the side of her neck, desperate to taste her everywhere, and she gasped, head thrown back. He had wedged her in between his body and the kitchen counter and his hands found her breasts as his mouth continued to explore her exposed skin. When she felt his fingers at the waistband of her pants, Kathryn managed to gasp, "Bedroom!"

In one swift motion, Chakotay picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. She stared up at him as he carried her, seeing determination mixed with wonderment and joy on his face - emotions that mirrored her own. When he laid her on the bed, his demeanor changed completely. The insatiable hunger was still there; she could sense it, but his violent urgency had been replaced with an incredible tenderness, and he explored her body with the reverent touch of a worshipper. She wanted to touch every inch of his skin, from his tattooed forehead to the shapely muscles in his legs. She feathered kisses up and down his body, avoiding the straining hardness where he most ached for her touch. When her mouth finally descended on him, he cried out in pleasure. Gentle explorations became more urgent as their need and desire grew.

As he sank into her, completing their joining, her eyes never left his and as he began to move inside her, they both gasped at the sensation, at the rightness of it. She was overwhelmed by the weight of his body on hers, by the knowledge that it was him inside of her. In the depths of his eyes, she saw love, passion, devotion, loyalty. Everything he felt for her was so clear, no words were necessary. And in her eyes, he saw his own love mirrored and multiplied. Her eyes widened as she felt a long forgotten tension building deep within her, and she cried out, her body spasming around him in the same moment that he emptied himself into her, moaning her name.

Overcome with emotion, Chakotay collapsed onto her, breathing hard, the sweat slick between their bodies. He held her shoulders, clutching her against him and it took him a moment to realize that the lithe woman beneath him was shaking with sobs. He propped himself up on his elbows, concern filling his face. "Kathryn? Kathryn, love, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, trying to smile through her tears. "Nothing," she said shakily. "Absolutely nothing is wrong, Chakotay. Everything is perfect." The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, and he leaned down to kiss them away.

"Why are you crying?" He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs as he cradled her face in his hands.

She turned her face away from his for a moment, trying to stop the flow of tears. "I just... I feel so much... So much that has been there for a long time, and I can finally let myself experience it fully, without reservations, without regrets." She turned back to him with a weak smile. "I guess it's a little overwhelming."

He leaned down to kiss her, his expression serious. "I love you, Kathryn. I can't remember a time when I didn't."

She smiled in happiness this time, and he saw true joy and acceptance in her eyes as she pulled his lips down to hers. He broke the kiss, intending to move off of her, but she grasped his shoulders and shook her head. "Stay." He nodded slowly, and that was how they fell asleep, his body covering hers, still joined. She woke a few hours later to find him hard inside her once again and they made love a second time before she spooned up next to him and a deep sleep claimed them.

When Kathryn woke the next morning, she had the vague sense that something had changed, but she couldn't remember what. Then she heard a soft snore from the pillow beside her and memories of the previous night came flooding back to her. She turned to look at the man sleeping beside her, propping herself up on one elbow to watch him. There were still a great many unanswered questions - about her career, about their life together, about the course their relationship would take, but she knew now that it would become clear, and that they would figure it out together, as, in truth, they always had. She reached out to trace the lines of his tattoo and he slowly opened his eyes, her touch rousing him from his sleep. "I love you, too, you know," she said softly. "I think I always have."

His smile lit up his entire face, and he whispered, "I know." As Chakotay pulled her into the warm safety of his embrace, Kathryn knew that whatever was to come, it would be far better than just "fine."

_In the arms of my love, I'm flying_

_Over mountain and meadow and glen_

_And I like it so well that for all I can tell,_

_I may never come down again_

_I may never come down to Earth again_


End file.
